


Drowning

by MissScaryKitty



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Accidental Kissing, F/M, Jealousy, Naaman - Freeform, Naaman is a goofy fuck, Near Death Experiences, Office Romance, new partner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScaryKitty/pseuds/MissScaryKitty
Summary: Agent Norman Jayden of the FBI has only 72 hours to find Shaun Mars alive. It seems he is beset on both sides- an elusive serial killer on one and a precinct of dirty cops on the other. He finds an ally in Detective Sandra Ellis, but can he really trust her? This might be the case that finally sends him spiraling out of control. Norman/OC MULTIPLE ENDINGS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My second story on Ao3. Happy to be here! I also posted this story on Fanfiction. Please enjoy my little story about Naaman!

Norman pulled up on the crime scene in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark outside and pouring down rain. His eyes were sore from driving straight from the airport across town. He had taken the last flight in from DC and didn't get any sleep on the plane.

Parking just beyond the police barrier, Norman glanced over at the media circus and then the crime scene beyond the fence. It was going to be one hell of a day.

Killing the engine, he stared at his shaking hands- an early sign of withdrawal. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a vial of blue powder. Just knowing he had Triptocain in reach claimed his nerves. He could go a bit longer without taking it, he convinced himself.

Getting out of the car, he waded through the crowd of reporters, the rain quickly soaking him through. The police barrier was just up ahead. Showing his badge to the officer in front of the yellow tape, he ducked beneath it and headed for the opening in the fence. He spotted a woman in a charcoal jacket layered over a grey hoodie standing by the gate. She had a badge hanging from a ball chain around her neck.

"Excuse me!" He called out to her over constant noise of the rain and construction vehicles behind them.

The woman turned to look at him. Wet strands of her long, honey colored hair stuck to her face and the tip of her pixie nose was reddened by the cold. Norman had to admit that she was attractive, but what struck him was her eyes, they were hypnotic- clear grey.

"Hello, I'm Detective Sandra Ellis," she introduced herself, extending her hand to him. "You must be the FBI profiler the Chief requested."

"Yes, I'm Agent Norman Jayden," he said, shaking her hand. She felt as cold as ice. Must have been out here a while now, Norman thought.

"Welcome to the madness, Mr. Jayden," she said, said referring to the crime scene before them. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Carter Blake," he said.

"He's the guy in the black coat." She pointed to a tall man with a goatee at the far end of the yard.

Spotting him, Norman nodded, "Thanks."

"Watch out, he's in a shit mood," she said, crossing her arms and casually leaning against the fence post. She wasn't about to go over there and deal with Blake until the coroner arrived.

"Thanks for the warning," he said, before heading over to the man she had pointed out.

Sandra watched the profiler as he crossed the wasteland and began talking to Blake. He certainly was slick looking, despite his baby face. Not to mention, he had a laced-up D.C. vibe. She got the feeling the Chief might have made a mistake asking him to come here. He wasn't going to fit in well with the others at the precinct.

...

Norman approach the man Sandra had pointed out and called to him to get his attention. "Lieutenant Carter Blake? I'm Agent Norman Jayden of the FBI."

The man turned to him, with an unfriendly, questioning gaze. He was a stocky with a goatee and cocksure posture. 

"I went by your office earlier this morning and they told me you'd be here."

"Well if you're looking for rain, freeways, and dead bodies, you've come to the right place," Blake snorted before turning to the officer closest to him. "Mike, would you tell that asshole with the bulldozer to stop it? I can't hear myself think."

"Right away, Lieutenant," the officer said before hurrying away.

Stewing in his irritation, Blake began making his way over to the ambulance by the opening of the fence. Looking behind him he grumbled, "Well, are you coming, Jayden?"

Sandra wasn't exaggerating about this guy, Norman thought as he followed the Lieutenant. He was definitely an asshole.

"So, what happened?" Norman asked.

"A man took his dog for a piss around 6:00 and found a dead body. By the looks of it, this seems to be the work of the Origami Killer."

This would be the eighth victim if it were true, Norman thought.

"Any news on a coroner?" Blake asked another officer nearby.

"No, not yet."

"We've been waiting an hour for fucks-sake!" He snapped.

Norman glanced over to Sandra then. She'd been watching the two from her fence post, her expression unreadable. She must have been hanging around until the coroner arrived, Norman thought.

Blake sauntered over to her then, his shoulders squaring up.

"Look, Sandra, it's not that I don't appreciate you circling like a vulture over my crime scene, but why don't you just go home? We'll have more news later today."

"I'm not leaving, Blake." She told him plainly. That was all the explanation she was going to give him.

"Fine, freeze you ass off," he huffed before turning to Norman. "Look, I've really got a lot to do, could we continue this conversation back at the station?"

"Not a problem. Would you mind if I took a look around?" Norman asked.

"Be my guest. I've already got one investigator breathing down my neck, what's one more?" He said, shooting daggers at Sandra. Being a Lieutenant, Norman found it odd Blake didn't just order her to leave. "Let me know if you find anything, we're on the same team now, Jayden."

With that said, Blake turned and walked away.

"I told you he was in a shit mood," Sandra muttered, a twist of a smile appearing on her lips as her gaze met his. The look she was giving him was almost flirtatious. Norman figured she meant nothing by it, but it give his heart a bit of a jumpstart all the same.

"I'll come get you when the coroner arrives," Sandra told him before she pushed off from the fence and headed for the makeshift coffee station set up under the overpass.

Norman had to smile to himself. She was definitely something else. He pulled out a pair of glasses and a black glove and put them on.

"ARI comment," he said to the AI as the display screen warmed up. First he logged the time and date then walked over to the small white tent and squatted down in front of it. Pulling the curtain back, he revealed the body of a small boy. Opening the right hand, he saw a small origami figure nestled in the victim's palm. Touching the child's fingers to scan the prints, Norman was able to get an ID. "The victim's name is Jeremy Bowles, declared missing five days ago. See reference file." A list of Jeremy's record popped up in yellow on the display screen. "An origami figure in the right hand and an orchid placed on the chest. The victim's face is also covered in mud."

So far, all signs pointed to the Origami Killer. Looking down closer, Norman could see bloody cut on the boy's leg.

"Superficial wound on the victim's right leg, probably made postmortem. Blood analysis shows an elongated period of fatigue."

Closing the curtain, Norman stood up. If there was blood on the victim, there had to be more in the area, he thought. Scanning the wasteland, a golden cloud popped up just right of the tent.

"ARI comment... there's traces of orchid pollen in the air leading toward the body."

Norman began to follow the pollen trail up towards the train tracks, scanning the area as he went. Finally, ARI picked up footprints, possibly the killer's and traces of blood on the fence next to the tracks. Analyzing the sample, it turned out to be the victim's blood. Just as he realized he'd picked up on a trail, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw Sandra walking up with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"It's a mess out here with the rain," she commented, taking a sip of her shitty coffee. The only reason to drink it was to stay warm. "There's never much to find when it gets like this."

"I couldn't find much myself. The killer seems to be very meticulous," he said.

Sandra nodded, looking down at her muddy boots. "It's been three very long years," she admitted, her expression slipping into solemness. Norman couldn't help but empathize. Eight victims and no leads, eight families with no closure to give them. It must have been very hard. "Those glasses you're wearing, what do they do?" She asked. This was the reason why she came over in the first place. When she saw him using them, they immediately piqued her curiosity.

"It's a new AI system called ARI. I use the glove to scan the area and the glasses then display the findings. It helps catalogue and analyze possible evidence," Norman explained.

"Interesting. Do you think that tech will ever make it down to the PD level?"

"It's hard to say. ARI is in a trial period at the moment," he explained, his thoughts immediately turning to the Triptocaine in his pocket. "It might not even become standard issue for the FBI."

Sandra had to wonder who this Norman Jayden was if he was given experimental tech to play around with.

"How X-Files," She said with a smirk.

Again, Norman couldn't quite tell if she was being flirty or not. He decided to go with no. It was definitely the safer option.

"It's not much, but I've detected traces of the victim's blood on this fence. The killer probably dragged the body down that hill and snagged the leg on the exposed wire. There's probably more to see up top."

Norman and Sandra proceeded up the muddy hill together, making sure to be careful where they stepped. Suddenly Norman's foot slipped and Sandra quickly gripped hold of him, her fist balling up in his jacket as she held on tightly.

"Thanks," he breathed in relief, regaining his footing.

"No problem," she smiled.

Reaching the top, Norman held out his hand for Sandra and pulled her up. Seeing she was stable, he put on ARI and began scanning the area.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, why doesn't Blake want you on the crime scene?" He asked.

"I make him uncomfortable," she smirked, wiping her muddy palms together to shuck off some of the dirt. "He knows I don't like him."

Norman wanted to inquire further but ARI pinged some clues up by the side of the highway.

"There's more footprints here, and tire tracks. They might belong to the killer's car," he said.

Sandra carefully rounded up on the tire tracks Norman had pointed out, making sure not to disturb either them or the footprints. Her heart sped up upon seeing the clear tire imprints in the mud. They, along with the footprints, were nearly perfect.

"That's amazing," she said, referring to ARI. "We have to get forensics up here to take photos and molds of these."

After searching the rest of the area, the two made their way back down the hill, careful not to slip.

"Are you going to wait for the coroner?" Sandra asked once they were safely beyond the train tracks.

"I don't think so," Norman said, looking out over the crime scene. "I need to get to my hotel and go over the details of the case for tomorrow."

Sandra nodded, stuffing her cold hands into her jacket pockets. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Agent Jayden. I'll see you tomorrow at the precinct."

"Good night, Detective Ellis," he nodded before turning and heading back to his car.

Sandra watched him walk away, her brow furrowed in curiosity. She didn't quite know what to make of Norman. She liked him but there was something off about him. Those glasses didn't make it any easier to relate to him on a professional level, either. He was a bit alien, she concluded. The rest of the precinct was going to hate that. Still, for what it was worth, she didn't mind.


	2. Welcome Norman!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get on with the show!

Norman walked into the precinct around 9:00am. He was able to get a hot shower and shave before he left his hotel, but that was about it. He'd spent the majority of his time going over the case files he had uploaded on ARI. He knew he had circles under his eyes, but that couldn't be helped. Sleep came only after a lot of tossing and turning. Norman wasn't very good at sleeping in new places. He figured he'd acclimate just when this case was ending.

Heading towards the back of the station he found the secretary's desk.

"Hello, I'm Norman Jayden of the FBI. Is Captain Perry in?"

The short haired woman behind the desk looked up from her work and gave him a polite smile, "He'll be out in a moment. He's just getting ready for the press conference."

"Thanks," he said before taking a seat in the chair outside the captain's door.

After a while Norman had to fight the urge to look at his watch. The captain was taking longer than he thought. Tired of staring at the floor, he pulled out ARI and put it on. Scrolling to the games section, he chose one with a picture of a baseball on it. A glowing blue ball appeared in his hand then as a brick wall materialized ten feet in front of him. He began to throw the ball against the wall and catch it, only to repeat himself. It wasn't overly stimulating, but at least it was something to do while he waited.

One officer in a blue uniform walked by him, confused and perturbed by his seemingly odd behavior. To anyone watching, it looked as if Norman was hallucinating. VR wasn't very well-known around the working stiffs at the station.

"Does it also have Tetris?" He heard a familiar voice ask. Looking off to his right, Norman saw Sandra Ellis standing by the secretary's desk, watching him in amusement. She really wanted to tell him he looked like a total weirdo but refrained.

Norman took off his glasses then, hoping he did well with hiding his embarrassment from her. "No Tetris, but it does play a mean game of chess." He said cooly.

"Ah," she grinned, walking up to him. She couldn't have asked for a nerdier answer. "You might want to stow those for now, Agent K. You're making some of the senior officers jumpy."

Norman chuckled, mildly embarrassed, and put ARI in his pocket. Maybe she was right. He wanted to make a good first impression.

"How was your night?" He asked.

"Long," she sighed, crossing her arms. "But once the coroner finally arrived we were able to make some headway. The time of death was determined to be only six hours prior to when the body was found."

"Interesting," said Norman, thinking aloud. This meant the victim was alive for four days before being drowned. This seemed to match the data from the other killings as well… and more importantly, it corroborated his theory on how the killer murders his victims.

...

Lieutenant Blake walked down the row of desks that led to his. Taking off his wet coat he folded over his arm. He knew that it was going to be a shit day. Jayden was taking over a large portion of the investigation and this did not set well with him at all. He didn't see much use in involving this government suit. He doubted he had much experience working in the field.

Looking beyond the desks he saw Sandra chatting with Norman. This really irked him for some reason. He decided to interject before she started putting ideas into his head. If he was going to maintain some semblance of control, he needed to establish his position of power right off the bat. As far as he was concerned, Jayden was the new kid on the block.

"Last night was fucking awful. I hope you got some sleep, Jayden, because today isn't going to get any better." Blake said as he tossed his rain sodden coat onto the back of his office chair.

"Once I talk to Captain Perry I'm ready to get started," Norman told him.

"I've got a lot of work to do here. We can start after the meeting," Blake said dismissively. His tone gave Norman pause. It didn't go unnoticed by Sandra either. Clearly he was mad about something.

"The briefing is right after the press conference, right?" Sandra asked Norman, searching for a way out of the conversation.

"Yeah, at 11:30." He told her.

"Alright, I'll be there. If anyone needs me, I'll be at my desk." She said, hiking her messenger bag up higher on her shoulder.

"While you're up, could you get me a coffee, Sandra?" Blake asked.

Sandra's eyebrows shot up. What was this, punishment for embarrassing him in front of Jayden last night?

"Did you seriously ask your female coworker to get you coffee?" She asked, her expression deadpan.

Realizing his mistake, Blake immediately started backpedaling. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, his tone defensive. "I was just asking for a favor."

"Sure," she snorted before walking away. The two men heard her mutter "asshole" under her breath as she made her way to her desk.

Great power play Blake, Norman thought sarcastically. The two of them really did not get along. He knew there had to be more to the story.

"She's pretty tough," Norman grinned.

"Yeah well, her father was a lieutenant," Blake sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

"Is he retired?" Norman asked, standing up from his chair and making his way over to Blake's desk.

"If by retired you mean he put a bullet in his skull, then yeah," Blake said gruffly, turning on his computer. The inner fan whirred as the old machine warmed up. It was a far cry from ARI.

"Why do you think he did it?" Norman asked, his gaze wandering over to Sandra who was sipping coffee out of her traveler mug as she typed up a report on her laptop.

"God only knows. Depression? It was long before my time here," Blake said dismissively. He wasn't keen on fueling Jayden's interest in his coworker. Especially Sandra.

The door to the captain's office opened then and an elder man in a brown suit walked out. He stopped by his secretary's desk and requested she cancel all his appointments for the afternoon.

"Excuse me," Norman said as he stepped away from Blake's desk. The Lieutenant was more than happy to see him go.

The agent swiftly strode over to the older man before he missed him. "Captain Perry, I'm Agent Norman Jayden of the FBI."

"Jayden! Of course. We've been expecting you. Do you mind if we talked and walked? I'm in a bit of a hurry." Perry said.

"Of course." Norman responded, following the Captain as he made his way through the office towards the front of the precinct. "I wanted to introduce myself before getting starting but perhaps there's a better time?"

"No no, this is fine. I just have to get to the press conference. We have them everyday now and believe me, it's not always easy finding something to tell them. Fortunately today we have some news." Perry explained, struggling with his tie as he walked. "Have you met Lieutenant Blake yet?"

"Yes, I met him and Detective Ellis this morning."

"Good, good." Perry nodded, the tone of his voice was uncertain at best. It seemed that the contention between Blake and Sandra was well known around the precinct. "Blake has his own methods and Ellis... well she's is pretty headstrong. But they're both good cops I'm sure you'll get along well with them. Do you know how to tie a tie?"

"I guess," Norman said, confused by the request.

Taking Perry's tie in his hands, he proceeded to make a Windsor knot. He found it strange the older man didn't know how to do this himself. Norman wondered if this was some mild form of posturing.

The next words out the captain's mouth were that he didn't want to get the FBI involved however, the Origami killings were becoming a matter of national concern. He proceeded to ramble on about the press and the poor social/political climate the Origami Killer was causing. He didn't really seem to have any sympathy for the families or victims. It was bizarre, he was acting like the whole thing was one big annoyance to him.

"This killer is exotic- leaves origami figures and orchids. Work that one out. And then the press gets onto it and suddenly we've become the center of the universe."

"I'm here to arrest a serial killer," Norman explained firmly. "With all due respect, sir, the rest of it is none of my business."

The captain paused for a moment, realizing that Norman had some bite to him. "No, of course not. All I'm asking is you make progress and fast. The press want answers and we're going to have to serve the killer up on a silver patter. You're more than welcome to sit in on the press conference. It'll give you a better idea of the climate around here."

"I may do that, sir," Norman said as he finished the knot in the tie. He had to resist the desire to make it a hair too tight.

"Not bad," Perry said, checking out Norman's work. "Charline will show you to your office. Welcome to the club, Jayden."

Perry made a few last minute adjustments to his clothes before heading into the press room. He seemed intent on putting on a good show. Most of the time, the police treated the media like children who needed to be placated. It seemed that Captain Perry believed that catering to the press was the entirety of his job.

Deciding to skip the press conference, Norman headed back to the secretary's desk. That's when he noticed a gold watch hanging over a small wicker collection basket.

"Nice watch," he commented.

Charline smiled, "Thank you. We've been giving all our new Lieutenant's this model as a promotional gift for the past 20 years. Would you like to make a donation?"

"Sure," said Norman. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a $5 bill and put it in the collection basket. "Captain Perry said you could show me to my office?"

"Yes, of course. Please follow me." She said, pushing out of her chair and heading to the back corner of the precinct. Norman followed her to a metal door with the placard "Office" on the front. It was very to-the-point.

Walking into the room, it was obvious no one had been in there in years. There was no computer, one chair and one desk at the center of the room with a bunch of old files and a non-wireless telephone from the early 90s. Frankly it was insulting.

"This is my office?" Norman asked, surprised how blatantly unwelcoming this was.

Charline shrugged, not knowing what else to do. "This is where I was told to take you."

Norman wasn't going to say anything more. It wasn't her fault.

"Can I get you anything else?"

He wanted to reply with, "yeah an office", but decided to tell her he was fine.

Once she left the room, Norman closed the door and went to work. Walking over to the desk, he pushed everything on top of it onto the floor. Then he pushed the desk all the way against the wall. Pulling up the chair, he put on ARI and went to the environment menu. Several spheres displaying different landscapes floated around him in a neat orbit. Scrolling past the underwater and fantasy scape, he pulled up the autumn forest scape. Holding the spherical icon in his hand, he smashed it down onto the desk. An entire autumn forest sprang from the place on the desk where he hit, surrounding him in a thicket of golden trees. He took a moment to appreciate the ambient soundtrack of rustling leaves and chirping birds before he began investigating the new clues found at the crime scene last evening.

Looking at the results from analyzing the tire tracks, it looked like the car was probably a Chevy Malibu 83. This was not much to go on, but at least it was something. Closing the files and taking off ARI, Norman got up to head to the meeting room. However, as he stood up his vision began to blur. Looking down at his hands, he saw they were shaking.

"Here we go again..." he said, clutching his forehead.

The pain that followed nearly made him fall back into his chair. He stumbled towards the door, his head swimming and his breathing erratic. It felt like his skull was full of razor blades. There was no resisting this time. He would faint if he didn't take the Triptocaine. Reaching into his pocket, he gripped the small vial tightly. Norman leaned his forehead against the office door and took a deep breath.

"No... I can make it," he said trying to convince himself. "I can make it."

Letting go of the tube, Norman pushed the door open and carefully made his way to the bathroom. He held his hands tightly so they wouldn't shake. He was seconds away from passing out but by some miracle he made it to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he went to the nearest sink and began splashing water onto his face. He stood there, slouched over the sink for a good long while. Even though he was able to resist, he knew that next time the symptoms would only be worse.

…

Ethan Mars sat in a chair in front of Sandra's desk. She had her hands folded atop her closed laptop as she looked at him intently. She was soon joined by Blake who sat on the desk next to hers, his foot propped up on the chair closest to him.

"This is Lieutenant Blake, Mr. Mars, will you please repeat to him what you just told me?" Sandra asked.

Ethan nodded, looking up at Blake. The way the Lieutenant was looming over him felt aggressive. It was very off-putting. "This afternoon, I went to the park with my son Shaun. He wanted to ride the carousel so I put him on one of the wooden horses and when I turned back, Shaun had disappeared."

Blake's brow furrowed in confusion. "How could he have disappeared? Weren't you right by the carousel?"

Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he knew the two cops were judging everything he said and did. It was crucial he give them all the right information. It wouldn't do himself any good to mention his blackout. They would immediately become suspicious of him.

"I went for a short walk, just for a few minutes," Ethan explained. "When I came back, the carousel had stopped and Shaun wasn't there."

Sandra leaned forward in her seat then, paying close attention to how Ethan would respond to her next question. "Mr. Mars, just so I understand, you said you took Shaun to the park right after school, but you didn't report him missing until 8:15. Why did you wait so long to contact the police?"

"I was looking for him for hours. I searched the whole neighborhood. I didn't think he could have gotten far."

Norman walked up to the side of Sandra's desk, having heard the conversation on his way back from the bathroom. Another kid was missing. It could very possibly be linked to their case.

"Did Shaun have any difficulties, Mr. Mars? Anything that would cause him to run away?" Norman asked.

Ethan began explaining how he and his wife had been separated for six months but he was convinced his son had not run away. Of course, he went straight to assuming it was the Origami Killer. It was every parents worst nightmare, so that was understandable. But Blake, Norman, and Sandra made sure to be careful not to confirm or deny this possibility.

"We'll call you if we find anything tonight Mr. Mars." Blake told him, pushing himself off the desk he was sitting on.

Ethan stood up and looked at his two more likely allies, Norman and Sandra. "What if he was taken... taken by the Origami Killer?"

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions. If we don't call you with more news tonight, come back tomorrow and we'll officially file a missing persons report." Sandra told him. She knew it wasn't very helpful, but it was all she could say without causing him to panic.

Ethan glumly thanked the officers for their time and made his way out of the station. He thought about the origami figure in his pocket and the recent blackouts he'd been experiencing. These were all things he knew he couldn't tell the police. But if Shaun was truly taken by the Origami Killer, he just withheld crucial evidence that could potentially save his son. This notion would eat away at his conscience.

...

Sandra, Blake, Captain Perry, and McCormick field into the dark meeting room where Norman had his ARI set up as a projector against a white screen. In the light of there being another possible abduction by the Origami Killer, the meeting took on a far more grave tone. Before they were trying to solve a murder whereas now they were potentially in a race against time to prevent another.

"The killer is white. Male between age 30-45. He doesn't act on impulse but plans his crimes in a very meticulous fashion," Norman explained, scrolling through the images in the slide show. "He has nothing personal against the victims this is why he covers their faces in mud. To make them anonymous."

"Why does he kill them if he has nothing against them?" Detective McCormick asked.

Sandra has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She really hoped Norman didn't think all of them were that stupid.

"To him they're more of a symbol. That's probably why he gives them an origami figure and an orchid as gifts to apologize for what he's done to them." Norman explained.

"Very interesting," Blake said, his tone snarky, as he leaned back in his chair. "And where does all that get us?"

Despite everyone's attitude, Norman remained patient. "The best way to track a predator is to be familiar with his behavior."

"That maybe true in novels, but a kid's life is at stake here!" Blake sharply interjected.

"He wasn't minimizing the situation, Blake." Sandra told him.

"Of course you'd take the pretty-boy's side, Ellis," Blake snorted.

"What side? We're all supposed to be on the same team here." She argued defensively. Sandra was glad it was dark in the room because her face was beat red from embarrassment.

"That's enough, both of you!" Perry snapped. "Continue Jayden."

"One detail attracted my attention. The interval between the time the victim disappears and the time the body is found ranges between 3 to 5 days. But the rainfall is always at 6 inches give or take ten percent. "

"What on earth does that mean?" Perry asked.

"The victims are all drowned in rainwater and the killer only kills in the fall when there is plenty of rain. It could be that he puts them in some kind of well or tank that's open to the skies so it fills up with rainwater. The more it rains, the less time the victim has to live."

Norman went on to explain how using geo-profiling will help find where the killer might live by looking at where the first murders were committed and mapping out a comfort zone in which he operates. It was simple really, but Blake of course had to question it.

"And what size is this zone?"

Norman clicked to the slide that showed the geo-profiling map. "For the moment? About ten square miles."

"There must be over 10,000 people living in that sort of area. What are we going to do, question them one by one?" Asked Blake.

Norman was getting fed up at this point but tried to remain visibly calm. "The more clues we get, the more we can narrow down the zone. Crosscheck that information with our list of suspects and we can figure out who the killer is."

"So what's next?" Perry practically huffed. It seemed he was getting fed up with this presentation as well.

Norman could see Sandra take a deep breath to keep herself from mouthing off to everyone. At least there was one person willing to work with him, he thought.

"There are two suspects that fit the psychological profile and live within the comfort zone. I would like to question them." Norman answered.

"Goddamn it! We're wasting our time with this bullshit," Blake yelled, his emotions finally getting the best of him. "The killer's out there somewhere. We've got to get off our asses and find him!"

Norman was quick to jump on the stocky lieutenant with another logical explanation. "The killer is no ordinary person, he's organized, intelligent and methodical. You won't find him by patrolling the streets." This insight did nothing to calm Blake down, in fact, it only served to fuel his animosity towards him. 

"Tell me Agent Jayden, did you get your vast experience on the job or did you just fucking read about it in some school book?" Blake snapped, testily.

This seemed to have finally gotten a rise out of Norman because what he said next was meant to be a direct jab at Blake. "I came here to find a killer and that is exactly what I'm going to do, with or without your help."

"Fuckin' asshole!" Blake shouted, standing up and kicking over the chair in front of him.

Sandra shifted in her seat, her posture immediately changed as she got ready to act if Blake lost it and swung at Norman. It wasn't the first time she saw the lieutenant lose it. Luckily, Perry stepped in.

"That's enough!" He ordered, causing Blake to stand down. "You said it took six inches of rainfall till the victim died. How much time do we have left?"

Norman took a calming breath before he looked to the screen at the picture of Shaun Mars. "If the weather forecast is right, less than 72 hours."

…

Once the meeting let out, Sandra followed Blake to his desk. She was hot on his heels and he could feel the anger radiating off of her.

"Alright, what?" He sighed, turning around to face her. He really wasn't in the mood to be lectured by her.

"What do you mean, what? You're acting like a complete dick, Carter. What is wrong with you?" She demanded, leaning over him as he took a seat in his chair.

"Nothing's wrong with me," he said, implying that the situation was the other way around.

"Are you mad because somebody else has the reins for once?" She asked, knowing how much of a child he could be over that sort of thing.

"Maybe I'm just sick of you drinking the FBI agent's Kool-Aid," he told her, pointedly.

"I'm not drinking his Kool-Aid... what does that even mean?" She asked, frustrated that he was trying to flip the script on her.

"You know what it means," he mumbled petulantly.

Was he jealous, she wondered?

"I've spoken to the guy twice," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I recognize those looks," Blake pointed out accusingly. "Just don't get drawn in by his high-clearance badge and fancy glasses. At the end of the day, all those FBI suits are just glorified paper pushers."

"You know, the more bullshit you talk the better you're making him look. Why don't you try getting along with one of your partners for once. Maybe you'll learn something." She said, trying her best to level with him.

"That asshole is not my partner," he told her firmly.

"God, you sound like a five year old," she sighed, knowing she was never going to win this argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake is fun to write for. He's such a little shit.


	3. Tripto Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit's getting realer with every new chapter.

Sandra made her way over to Norman's office. She wanted to apologize for Blake and McCormick's ridiculous behavior- or at least assure him she was still willing to work with him.

She admired the way he was able to keep a level head. Patience wasn't exactly her strong suit and she doubted she could have done the same.

Blake was a creature of habit- very set in his ways. He was bound to reject any new strategies Jayden would try and present. Sandra, however, liked the direction he was going. It was refreshing and made sense.

Knocking on the metal door labeled "Office", Sandra waited for a response but none came. She knew he was in there so she knocked again. After a moment, she decided to take the liberty and walk in.

"Agent Jayden?" She asked, closing the door behind her. Sandra was struck by a jolt of panic as she saw Norman collapsed on the floor, his back against the wall. A scarlet trail of blood dripped from his nose and over his lips. His eyes were half closed making it difficult to tell if he was conscious or not.

"Oh fuck..." she breathed, scrambling over to him and placing two fingers on his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and his pulse erratic. "Hang on, I'm going to get help." She told him.

As she turned to leave, Norman grabbed her wrist. His grip was solid and the dead weight of his arm practically dragged her down to the floor with him.

"No don't..." he muttered through his delirious haze. He seemed emphatic on this point. "It will pass soon."

Sandra briefly wondered why he was so determined to stop her but quickly connected the dots. He was high on drugs.

Shucking his hand off her wrist, Sandra kneeled in front of him and patted him down. Feeling something in his jacket pocket, she reached in and pulled out a vial of fine blue powder.

"What is this, Jayden, some kind of meth?" She asked accusingly.

"No... it's Triptocaine," he said, clumsily reaching for it. Sandra pulled the vial closer to her. She wasn't about to give it back to him.

"Triptocaine?" She repeated, having never heard of it.

"I take it to help calm the side effects of ARI." Norman explained.

"Side effects... what do those glasses do to you?" Sandra asked. She merely thought ARI was some kind of AI/VR integration. It was disturbing to think it had negative side effects and FBI agents were actively using it.

Norman's bloodshot eyes met hers. They looked more focused. "It comes in waves- sweating, shaky hands, hallucinations... the more I use ARI, the worse the symptoms get. The Tripto helps take the edge off but it's not been as effective lately."

"So you've been taking more to compensate," Sandra finished.

Norman's gaze fell to the floor, "Yeah."

He was ashamed by the truth. His one addiction was feeding the other, both gradually getting worse every day. Admitting it was painful.

Sandra saw the defeated look on his handsome face and her steely gaze softened. It saddened her to see him this way. Just moments ago in the meeting room he seemed so determined, so strong. Realizing she was no longer mad at him, she sat down on the floor beside him. "Does the FBI know how bad it effects you?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I know what you're thinking, but I can't stop using it. We have less than 72 hours to find Shaun Mars alive and I can't make that timeframe without ARI."

Sandra stared at him for a long moment considering what he just told her. The certainty in his voice was enough to give her pause. But if he continued to use ARI, she would be complicit in hiding his addiction from the others. He told her he couldn't find Shaun Mars without ARI, but if anything went wrong, they would both be screwed.

"Fuck..." she breathed, realizing the position she was in. She sat for a minute in contemplative silence before speaking. "If you let that shit take over your life, you're going to have nothing left."

The graveness in her voice struck Norman. She seemed so certain. Gone we're the coy looks and clever jokes. She was being dead serious.

"Once the killer is found, I'll get clean," he promised her.

"No you won't," she said.

Norman watched curiously as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a coin and held it out for him to see. It was a sobriety chip that had '2 years' stamped on it.

He was surprised by this revelation. Sandra seemed like a woman who had everything together- someone who was confident and very much in control of her life. He supposed none of that mattered in the face of addiction. He would know that more than anyone.

"For five years I told myself I would get sober. But when I'd close one case, a new one would open. I convinced myself that if I could just make it through, find the killer, I could finally quit. But we both know that the cases never stop coming. I was just enabling myself. The only reason I'm telling you this is because if you don't stop now, you never will."

He knew she was right. Once this killer was found, another one would crop up and then another. The cycle would be never ending.

"I'll stop taking the Tripto but I can't give up using ARI. Not for this case," he said, needing her to understand.

What he was proposing was risky, Sandra thought. But she doubted he would change his mind on the matter. She supposed it came down to whether she was willing to trust him or not.

After a moment of hesitation, she spoke. "Alright. Deal."

She held out her pinky to him then. A weak grin tugged at his lips as he realized Sandra was going to make him pinky swear. He did it, all the while thinking she had an odd sense of humor.

Taking out a crumpled Starbucks napkin from her pocket, she leaned towards him and began dabbing away the blood on his lip. She was careful to be gentle with him. When her other hand came to rest on his cheek, Norman resisted the urge to close his eyes and lean into her warm touch.

He saw her gaze fall on his scar briefly as she folded the napkin over and wiped the rest of the blood away from his chin. She didn't ask him about it, but he could tell she was curious.

"There." She said standing up and tossing the napkin in the small wastebasket by his desk.

"Thanks," he told her, slowly pushing himself up to his feet. He knew he looked like shit but he attempted to straighten himself out.

"You'll want to stop by the bathroom and rinse your face before we get going," she told him.

"Get going?" He asked, looking up at her in confusion.

"Yeah, you said there were two people within the comfort zone you wanted to interview. Go get cleaned up and I'll bring the car around front."

Norman wasn't going to argue with her. Grabbing ARI up off the desk, he placed it in his pocket.

"Alright, I'll see you in five minutes," he told her as he exited the office.


	4. Nathaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandra breaks the law. Blake acts like an idiot. Norman tries to keep it all afloat.

Sandra pulled up in front of Nathaniel Williams's apartment and killed the engine.

"According to past arrest records, Nathaniel hasn't displayed violent tendencies, but is prone to mental fits. So I we all need to keep that in mind when questioning him," said Norman, before taking off his ARI. He was more speaking to Blake than anyone else.

Blake, who was in the passenger seat, simply rolled his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "You'd be surprised what people are capable of, Jayden. Especially wackos who think they're acting in the name of the Lord."

Sandra said nothing as she, stepped out of the car and into the rain. She didn't really care to share her opinion.

It just figured that Blake had to be there, she thought. He had caught the two of them just as they were heading out and there was no getting around having him tag along. He was her superior and neither she or Norman had any choice in the matter.

The two men exited the car and followed Sandra up the broken concrete steps of the building and into the cramped lobby. They had been in the downpour for less than a minute and were already halfway soaked.

Sandra checked the names on the mailboxes in the entryway, finding the one that had Nathaniel's name on it.

"He's in apartment 211," she said.

The three of them headed up the stairs to the second floor. When they reached the door with the numbers 211 nailed to the front, Norman knocked loudly. After a moment with no answer, he knocked again with the same result.

"No one's home. We wasted our time coming here." Said Norman, ready to turn around and head back to the car.

"Let's just have a little look inside anyway," Blake said approaching the door.

"How? There's nobody home," Norman pointed out.

Blake squared up in front of the door, about to kick it in, when Sandra shot in front of him and pushed him backwards. Blake stumbled into the stair railing behind him.

"Don't even think about it," Sandra snapped.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do then? Leave empty handed?" Blake snarled at her as he rubbed the spot where his tailbone hit the bannister. "Move out of my fucking way, Sandra."

"Just hold on," Sandra insisted as she pulled out her key ring and picked out a brass key with even, shallow, teeth. Jamming it into the lock with enough force so that the pins jumped above the cylinder, she immediately twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

"You carry around a bump key?" Norman asked. "That isn't exactly legal."

Sandra was more than aware of his disapproval but said nothing as she headed into the apartment. Blake grinned widely as he followed her through the door. He was glad Norman got a taste of the real Sandra. Maybe he'd think twice next time before bringing her along with him.

Norman wanted to criticize Sandra for breaking the law but knew that would just sound hypocritical considering what she had just found out about him. Figuring that the damage was already done, he walked into the apartment.

Inside he found the physical manifestation of Nathaniel's madness. There were thousands of crosses of all sizes and sects nailed on the walls and ceiling. There was no space unclaimed by a crucifix. At the back of the living room area was an alter and pew for praying. All the candles in the room were lit. It looked like there was more in the back rooms as well.

"Looks like Nathanial Williams is a pretty religious guy," said Norman, as he looked around the apartment.

"He's a god-fearing idiot waiting for the end of the world," Blake snorted. Nathaniel and his neuroses didn't impress him one bit. He found it disgusting. "We questioned him a few months back because he was causing a disturbance in the park. He was ranting and raving. Said he heard voices. Had this idea in his sick little head that I was the anti-Christ- that I had come to earth to persecute him. Real twisted."

Sandra quietly glanced back at Blake, her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew that Blake had a habit of going further than just questioning suspects. When Nathaniel was released from police custody, he had a split lip and the beginnings of a black eye. When she caught Norman looking at her from across the room, she quickly turned back to sifting through a pile of Nathaniel's mail.

Norman, moved from the living room into the bedroom where he found more crucifixes as well as cabinets and dresser drawers full of various medications. He didn't recognize the labels on many of them, but some he knew to be treatments for schizophrenia.

The kitchen was the most disgusting of all. Open cans of Spaghetti-O's and half-eaten jars of pickles and peach slices littered the counter. It seemed like Nathaniel wasn't too concerned about his diet. Mold had taken hold on the dirty plates and silverware that was piled up in the sink and the linoleum was pulling up from the floor due to water damage.

Sandra came up along side Norman, her eyes wandering around the musty room.

"Jesus," she muttered. "Makes you wonder how people live like this."

Norman simply nodded, not knowing what else to add to her statement.

As the two made it back around to the living room, they heard the soft creak of the front door opening behind them.

"Angels and their ministers, defend us," said Nathaniel as he settled into the room, his arms full of groceries. His worried expression was undercut by his timid voice.

"Evening Nathaniel," Said Blake, sauntering in from the bedroom.

"As god as my witness, I haven't done anything. I am innocent," said Nathaniel as he placed his grocery bag on the floor. His eyes radiated fear. Both Sandra and Blake knew exactly why that was.

Norman held his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace, "Relax, nobody's accusing you of anything. I'm Norman Jayden of the FBI. We just want to talk."

Nathaniel was still guarded, practically cowering, but nodded in understanding.

"Why all the crucifixes? You afraid of something?" Norman asked, his tone gentle.

"The hour is nigh, and the wrath of god shall strike men down. I am preparing for the end of the world," Nathaniel explained, his expression grave.

Sandra looked to Norman to see his reaction. She of course had heard all of this from Nathaniel before but she was curious as to how the FBI agent would react. He seemed to take it in stride.

"You were arrested in a case where a child disappeared from a park. What exactly happened?" Norman inquired further.

"I am innocent! I had nothing to do with those murders," Nathaniel insisted. "God told me I should be there. I was arrested because I am the chosen one. That's all."

"What about the voices, Nathaniel? Do you still hear the voices?" Blake cut in. He looked like a cat who'd cornered a mouse. "We know who talks to you, don't we Nathaniel. Oh, we both know who talks to you."

"Lieutenant-" Sandra murmured, her tone warning.

"Do not speak that name," Nathaniel gritted out.

"What does he say to you Nathaniel?" Blake pushed, knowing he would soon get a reaction out of him.

"I can't talk about it. We mustn't talk about it!" Nathaniel insisted, shaking his head and twitching as if cockroaches were running across his brain. His movements made both Sandra and Norman uneasy. Each one could feel their service weapons sitting heavy in their holsters.

"He wants you to go and find new prey, doesn't he? He needs more and more," Blake taunted.

"Blake what are you doing?" Norman demanded. There was an unmistakable note of anxiousness in his voice. This was not proper police conduct, he thought, it was pure stupidity.

"No!" Nathaniel cried, scurrying backwards and making everyone but Blake start. He was merely trying to put distance between himself and his tormenter. "You mustn't mention him. You'll bring him here!"

"He told you to go find that kid in the park, the voices torment you all night long. You wanted them to stop, didn't you Nathaniel?"

"Stop! Stop! That's enough!" Demanded Nathaniel.

Blake wasn't listening, he was on a roll and he knew that eventually the man in front of him would crack. "So you obey them to make them stop. Isn't that right?"

"Curtis, shit! Are you out of your mind?" Norman cried.

"No! Stop, stop!" Nathaniel all but howled.

"You killed them didn't you? Are you going to confess you bastard?" Blake snapped, punching the slender man in the jaw.

That was the moment Sandra finally interceded by smacking Blake's hands down and pushing him back. "Stop, it now!" She snapped, her heart pounding in her ears.

Before Blake could yell at her for getting in his way, Sandra felt Nathaniel's arm wrap around her neck, dragging her backwards into his chest, and the cold barrel of a gun press to her temple. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she clutched hold of his arm.

"Let her go, Nathaniel," Norman demanded, drawing his own gun and pointing it at him. He did not have a clean shot and neither did Blake.

"You shall regret confronting the emissary of the Lord, you shall know divine power!" Nathaniel raved. He had been pushed past his breaking point.

"Just keep calm Nathaniel," said Norman, trying his best to do the same.

"Thou shall not suffer a witch to live," he ground out, digging the barrel of the gun into Sandra's temple.

Sandra whimpered, her grip tightening on Nathaniel's arm. Her frightened gaze locked into Norman's- silently begging him to help her.

"Nathaniel, listen to me," Norman said. His heart was racing a million miles a minute but somehow he managed to appear calm. "If you're going to point the gun at someone, point it at me. Detective Ellis is not a witch."

"She is! This harlot serves the devil," cried Nathaniel, his wild eyes shifting to Blake.

Nathaniel remembered her and how she did nothing help him when Blake had beat him in the interview room earlier that year. In his mind, she was not to be trusted.

"Look, that's not true. Put the gun down," said Norman, trying his best not to agitate the man. He could already tell Blake was trying to line up a shot. There was no way he would get one.

"For Christ's sake, shoot him!" Blake cried.

"Oh Lord, give me strength to vanquish all evil, to be your warrior on this plane..." Nathaniel began to mumble. Both Blake and Norman saw the sheer panic in Sandra's eyes as Nathaniel continued to chant out prayers. Both men were desperate to do something, but it was Norman who made a move.

"Enough, Nathaniel! Put the gun down immediately." Norman told him, his harsh tone indicating it would be his final warning. Otherwise, he would have no choice but to take the shot.

To everyone's surprise, Nathaniel stopped chanting. Making eye contact with the FBI agent, the zealot took a few calming breathes before he slowly loosened his grip on Sandra.

"Now drop the gun. Drop it Nathaniel. Put your hands on your head and turn around," Norman ordered, shocked that he was actually able to talk the man down.

Nathaniel slowly loosened his grip on Sandra. The gun slipped down to his side before he dropped it on the floor. Once the piece hit with a loud clunk, Sandra quickly scrambled away from him. When she did, Norman moved in to handcuff him.

"Alright, freak, the show's over," Blake snapped, grabbing hold of Nathaniel and dragging him to the door before turning back to Norman. "Pretty damn cool under the circumstances. I would have just shot him."

Norman approached Sandra who had her arms crossed so tightly over her chest they looked like they were welded there.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly.

"Yeah." She nodded before tilting her head back and taking in a deep breath. Tears stung her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. "Fucking Christ." She muttered before raking her hands through her hair and walking out the door.

Norman looked after her, his hands shaking at his sides. He could have really used a hit of Tripto right then.


	5. Ramen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandra offers Norman a chance to get to know her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away! Life happens, but I'm trying to update as often as I can.

“Have you eaten?” Sandra asked, peeking her head into Norman’s office. She had her large coat on and messenger bag slung over her shoulder. It appeared that she was done for the day.  
The FBI Agent turned in his chair and pulled his ARI glasses down his nose so he could look at her. He had just been filling out a report about their visit to Nathaniel’s apartment and his subsequent arrest. It was quite detailed considering all that had happened. He wasn’t fully decided on whether he was going to leave in the part about Sandra’s bump key and breaking-in without a warrant. It was tempting, considering the fact that the whole mess could have been prevented had she and Blake refrained from breaking the law. Still, Sandra had said nothing about the Triptocaine. As much as altering the report nagged him, he supposed he owed her one.  
“Uh, no. Not yet,” he said, somewhat surprised that she hadn’t already gone home. Most people in her position would have taken the rest of the day off. It appeared like she was taking the whole thing in stride, or at least that’s how she wanted it to seem.  
“Well, I’m starving,” said Sandra as she opened up the door wider in a motion for him to get up and go with her. “There’s a good ramen place down the street. They close at 10:00 though, so we have to hurry.”  
“Isn’t ramen that packaged noodle stuff?” Norman asked, confused not only by her invitation but by her choice of food as well. The moment those words left his mouth, he began to mentally kick himself for sounding so judgmental. He might have just blown his one chance at a date with her.  
“What? No.” She said, giving him a look like he was crazy. “You’ve never had real ramen before?”  
“If you’re not talking about Cup Noodles, then no.” He said, steepling his hands in front of him.  
Sandra grinned at his naïveté as she took her fingerless gloves from her coat pocket and slipped them on. She wasn’t offended by his ignorance, in fact, she looked excited. “Come on, FBI guy, I'm about to give you a real treat.”  
Norman glanced at her uncertainly before gathering his things and following her out the door. He wasn’t about to decline dinner with her, he was eager to go, he was just hoping he would be able to keep the food down.  
After a five-minute walk in the pouring down rain, Sandra and Norman made it to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with two large dragon-shaped neon lights hanging in the front window. The sign above the door read, Red Dragon Ramen Bar.  
“This is the place,” Sandra told him, shivering from the cold. It was the first thing she said to him since they left the precinct.  
Norman stepped up to the door and held it open for her. Taking note of this chivalrous move, she glanced over at him and gave him a shockingly coquettish smile. Bathed in the red light from the neon dragons, she looked almost impish. Norman wondered if that look meant he was overstepping himself, or if she liked it.  
The chef behind the sushi bar shouted out a greeting over the noise in the kitchen and offered for them to sit anywhere they liked. The tables seemed somewhat crowded, so Sandra headed to the end of the bar where there were two free chairs. Sitting down, she ordered them both green tea and Tonkotsu ramen. She figured since it was Norman’s first time, she’d stick with the basics.  
Within five minutes, the chef reached over the bar and set two huge steaming bowls in front of them. Norman picked up his chopsticks and curiously pushed the marinated egg around in the broth a moment before picking up some noodles and taking a bite.  
Sandra attempted to hide her growing smile as she watched him try to figure out how to tackle the long noodles. She was about to point out that there was a spoon on the dish the bowl was placed on but decided not to embarrass him further.  
“Verdict?” She asked, once he was able to swallow his first mouthful.  
“It’s good... it’s really good,” he told her, pleasantly surprised. This meal wasn’t going to be hard to get though at all, he thought, relieved.  
“I told you,” she smiled, victoriously.  
“Sorry I doubted you,” he joked, grinning down into his bowl. These were definitely not the squiggly packaged noodles he subsisted on in college, he thought to himself.  
Sandra took a few bites of her food before asking him what it was like living in DC. He had to laugh before telling her she probably wouldn’t like it. Too many politicians. He added in that he grew up in Baltimore, so he could sympathize.  
“Baltimore, huh? That explains the accent,” she said, holding in a smile. She could see the slightest hint of a blush tinging his cheeks in the low lighting of the restaurant. “I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s a shit town, but I still love it.”  
After the terrifying moment in Nathaniel’s apartment, they both needed this. Norman guessed that if they hadn’t of gone to dinner, Sandra would still have been able to come back to the precinct the next morning ready to work. But he had the feeling that was always how she handled things; considering his own limited experiences of not being able to rely on Blake or Captain Perry. In a sense, she was very much alone. That thought did not sit well with him.  
Their bowls were nearly empty when Norman finally worked up the courage to bring up a more personal topic.  
“Blake told me your father was a lieutenant. Is that why you chose to become a cop?” he asked.  
“Did he also tell you he killed himself?” Sandra said, her tone clipped as she kept her eyes locked on her bowl. “He always tells people that.”  
Norman realized he had just made a colossal mistake and immediately began kicking himself.  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. That was stupid of me.” He apologized, his face red with embarrassment.  
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone always asks.” She said, lightly tapping her wooden chopsticks against the ceramic bowl. “They can’t help but be curious.”  
“Curiosity is not an excuse. So, again, I’m really sorry,” He told her.  
“Thanks,” she nodded, knowing Norman was being sincere. “To answer your question, it was actually my father’s partner who inspired me to join. He became my legal guardian after my father died- made sure I got good grades, drove me to prom, threatened every boy I ever dated... all the important dad stuff.”  
“He sounds like a good guy.” Said Norman, eliciting a fond smile from Sandra.  
“Yeah, he is. Growing up with him was for the better, really. My real dad loved to drink. He could be a real bastard sometimes. It’s funny, you know… they say being prone to alcoholism may be hereditary.”  
Sandra’s gaze suddenly became distant and bitter. For an instant, Norman saw the gaping wound in her heart.  
“So that’s my fucked-up story. Boring town, typical family drama. Now you tell me something, where did you get that scar on your cheek?”  
Norman hadn’t wanted to change the conversation but he didn’t want to press her either. Looking around, he worried a hand through his hair, embarrassed by the story he was about to tell. “I, uh, was in Memorial Park one day when I saw this guy kick his dog for peeing on the sidewalk. I told him I’d take the dog away if he did it again and he just hauled off and punched me. He was some ex-jock; had a chunky high school ring on.”  
“Ow... What happened to the dog?” She asked.  
“He’s at my apartment back in DC. Probably chewing up my furniture,” said Norman as he let out a laugh.  
Norman Jayden: Tripto addict, weirdo, and dog rescuer Sandra thought with a smile. As much as she hated admitting to ‘drinking the Kool Aid’ as Blake put it, she was beginning to really like him.  
Having finished dinner, the two walked back through the unforgiving rain to the departments parking lot. Norman followed Sandra as she approached her beat-up vintage Cadillac.  
“This junker is me,” she told him turning around to face him. “There’s two more names on your list of possible suspects. I’m sure we can knock both of them out tomorrow.”  
Norman nodded in agreement. He balled his hands into nervous fists as he watched her unlock her car. He knew his window of opportunity was quickly closing.  
“I don’t want to be forward or anything, but was this a date?” Norman asked. He silently prayed he had not read her signals wrong.  
A coy smile crept onto Sandra’s lips as she gazed up at him. She was giving him that same look she had when standing in the light of the red dragons.  
“Well, I did lure you away from work for dinner at a very romantic dive.” She joked.  
“Seriously,” Norman pressed as he took a step closer to her; he couldn’t stand her teasing and wanted a straight answer.  
Their bodies were so close beneath his umbrella, the electricity between them was palpable. Sandra’s breath hitched in her throat for one faltering moment before speaking.  
“Off the record?... Yeah. Do you mind?” She asked quietly; once again, showing him a glimpse of her vulnerability.  
“No,” he told her, having been relieved by her response.  
“Good,” she said, hoping he couldn’t see her blush in the dim lights of the parking lot. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”  
Seeing her open her car door, Norman’s first reaction was to think of something to make her stay with him a little longer. His mind even raced to kissing her, but the more rational part of him took over and he did neither of those things. Instead he watched Sandra slip into the driver’s seat of the old Cadillac and stepped back as she pulled out of her parking space and drive out of the lot.  
Norman spent the rest of the night wondering if he should have said something more or done something different. He had gone on a date with his coworker, Sandra- the first woman he felt attracted to in years. And underneath these promising developments, he felt a gnawing dread for what the morning would bring.


End file.
